The Waters Of Love

There's cloud all around me
Grey from my ashtray
But I am not lost, not doomed,
Not yet anyway

This swamp tests meĀ 
These waters are foul
My senses have failed me
My heart has thrown in the towel

These sweet limes hanging nearby
All poisonous fruits
My throat is so dry
And their citrus, a deep hue

I know better than that, I should
I should have tried harder than that, I could
There's enough poison to go by
But not enough to kill or to die
We tell so many tales, but only few are not lies

There's an Armenian bastard here playing a flute
I do not quite know what she sings
But I know it's poisoned by the roots
I don't know what she's singing but I understand it perfectly
The flowers always worship, the greediest honeybee

There is silver in the earth beneath the shit and the moss
Death is always written on both sides of the toss
The ocean, the swamp, their bite bitter spray
Defeated in every battle in my own internal fray

The nile is poisoned and so is the thames
Your walls have fallen, you have only yourself to blame,
These waters have sweetened the bitterest of rums,
They have poisoned your eyes and clouded even the well of aab e zam zam.


◄ The Emptiness of the Full Stop

Advice from a grave digger ►


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